


Art of Love, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-15
Updated: 2000-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A healing Mulder spends Valentine's Day with his extended family.





	Art of Love, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Art of Love by m. butterfly

The Art of Love (1/1)  
by m. butterfly  


Rating: R for m/m affection, implied sex, naughty  
language  
Category: M/Sk  
Spoilers: Sein Und Zeit, Closure  
Archive: Sure

Summary: A healing Mulder spends Valentine's Day with his extended family.

Author's notes: This story, part of my Resuscitation universe, occurs shortly after the episode "Closure." A little background: the boys have been together for 16 months, and Scully and Kim (Skinner's PA) know all about it. For more info, please visit my website: Skinner.Mulder.com/walfox. Feedback always welcome and answered.

Acknowledgments: My undying thanks to Lucy Snowe for her incredible patience and superb beta service. (Have fun in LA, darling!) No thanks at all to CC, who's made sticking even remotely close to canon damned well impossible this season.

Dedication: This slightly belated Valentine's story is a very belated birthday prezzie for my friend and fellow M/Sk devotee Rosalita, who was sick on the big day and deserved so much better. Here's to good health and punctual stories next year, Rosie!

Disclaimer: The characters of Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, and Kim Cooper are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended. 

* * *

The Art of Love (1/1)  
by m. butterfly  
  
Special Agent Fox Mulder's Office  
FBI Headquarters  
Washington, DC

"Good morning, Mulder. Look what I've got--Mulder?"

Her breakfast muffin turning to lead in her stomach, Dana Scully put the Starbuck's tray down and crouched in front of her partner. "Mulder? What is it?"

He just sat there, staring at his clasped hands, giving no indication that he'd heard her.

"Mulder?" she tried again, lifting his chin. "What is it? What's wrong? Is it Walter? Did something happen to him?"

The glazed-over hazel eyes focused at the mention of Skinner's name. "No," he said softly before pulling away. "Walter's fine."

Scully let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Mulder had recently buried his mother, finally learned that his sister was dead. Scully and Skinner were the closest thing to family he had left, and she didn't think he'd survive another loss. Not this soon, at any rate.

"Then what is it, Mulder? Are you all right?"

He chewed on his lower lip before answering. "Yeah, I'm all right. For a prematurely senile asshole."

She stood, dragged her chair over to him, and settled in for some answers. He'd refused to take any bereavement time since his mother's suicide, and Scully was worried about him. It was obvious he hadn't been sleeping well or eating properly. And she didn't like this self-deprecation shit one bit, even though he wasn't being totally serious about it.

"Did you two have a fight?" she pushed, gently, as only Scully could.

He rolled his eyes. "Why does everybody always assume--?"

"Come on, Mulder! What am I supposed to think? Help me out here." She squeezed his arm. "What have you done that's so terrible that you don't even ask which coffee's yours?"

He perked up noticeably. "Is it the bigger one?"

"Yup." She handed it to him.

"Thanks, Scully. Lunch is my treat today. You name the place."

"Okay. Great. Wonderful. Now, stop trying to change the subject and tell me what's going on with you."

He sighed melodramatically. "I didn't even realize it 'til I heard it on the radio this morning."

"Realize what?"

Mulder gulped back some coffee. "What day is it today, Scully?"

"Monday. Wh--? Oh."

"Yeah. *Oh*. And I forgot. Completely forgot. Therefore, I'm an asshole."

"Mulder, don't be so hard on yourself. You've--you've had more important things to think about lately. I'm sure he understood."

"Of course he did, Scully, but that's not the point. I didn't do anything for him *last* year, so I promised I'd make it up to him *this* year. But I didn't."

She plucked at his sleeve until he reluctantly met her gaze. "When you made that promise, you didn't know what was going to happen a year later. Nobody did. Besides," she said, leaning in, "from what I've seen, every day seems to be Valentine's Day for you guys."

Mulder blushed, gave her a shadow of a smile. "Yeah, well--"

"Listen to me, Mulder. If you want make today special for him, please don't go home and beat yourself up just because you forgot about a stupid holiday created by greeting card companies and florists."

He wasn't letting himself off the hook that easily. "It's still symbolic, Scully. The most romantic day of the year. And I blew it."

"The day's not over yet, Mulder. You've still got time to run out and get him something. But can I give you some advice?"

"Do I have any choice?"

"No," she laughed. "Just listen. Walter loves you more than anything in the world. All he wants is for you to be happy and healthy."

Mulder knew all that, but it sounded that much more real coming from someone else.

"You don't need to shower him with gifts the way you do at Christmas and his birthday," Scully continued. "Just let him take care of you and enjoy it."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Despite his partner's wise counsel, Mulder didn't want to come home empty-handed. He left work on time for a change so he could do some last-minute shopping.

As he unlocked the door to their condo, he could hear music coming from within. Not a CD, but Skinner playing his guitar and quietly singing, his deep, rich voice filling Mulder with a mixture of pride and longing.

Skinner headed for the door the moment Mulder walked through it.

"You shouldn't have stopped," Mulder told him. "That was beautiful. Gordon Lightfoot?"

"Yeah. I was just fooling around, you know. Waiting for you."

Mulder dropped his briefcase and let Skinner help him with his coat before stepping into the older man's welcoming embrace. "Something smells good. Besides you, I mean. What is it?"

"Baked potatoes."

Mulder looked over Skinner's shoulder, noticed the dining room table wasn't set. "We eating in front of the TV tonight?"

Skinner stroked Mulder's hair, kissed it. "Nope. Too messy. The kitchen." He released his prize, began loosening his tie. "Hungry?"

//"Too messy?"// Mulder wondered what in hell Skinner was cooking up. "Yeah, sure," he half lied.

"Fox--"

God! Sometimes it was as if Skinner had been the one who could read minds. Well, Mulder's, anyway.

"I am a *bit* hungry. When's dinner gonna be ready?"

Skinner's solemn brown eyes bore into him. "Whenever you feel like it, babe. Why don't you get changed and just relax with me for a while?"

"Play some more?"

That earned him a shy smile. "Sure. Where are you going?"

He looked back at Skinner. "Just putting my briefcase in the den, Mom."

//Mom!//

Skinner watched as Mulder's head snapped around, as his march through the living room slightly faltered, as his shoulders slumped. Shit! Should he say something? Go to him? Or just ignore the faux pas?

He was still struggling over what to do when Mulder returned from the den. "Fox?"

He sighed, patting Skinner's arm on his way to the staircase. "I'm all right. I'll be down in a minute."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

//Stop it. Just fucking stop it!//

Mulder bunched his dress shirt up into a ball and slam-dunked it into the hamper.

//She's gone. So's Samantha. Feeling sorry for yourself won't bring them back. But it might chase Walter away. Then you'll be really fucked.//

He grabbed his oldest, faded jeans--the ones Skinner liked--and a dark green sweatshirt that brought out the emerald flecks in his eyes. Once he was dressed, he surveyed himself in the mirror. Jesus, they were right. He *had* lost weight. No wonder Walter had been treating him like he was made of egg shells. Especially in bed.

Determined to eat all of whatever was put in front of him, he headed back downstairs, following the soothing sounds of the guitar and Skinner's voice like a disciple. He paused on the bottom step, nodding at his lover to continue, content to watch from a distance for a while.

Skinner was wearing black jeans--snug, but not tight--and a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt, also black. One long leg was tucked up underneath him, and one grey-sock-clad foot was tapping in time to the music. Arms powerful enough to bench press over 300 pounds held the Gibson with infinite tenderness, and Mulder suddenly felt an overwhelming need to be much closer to those arms. He nearly sprinted over to the couch and sat on the floor before Skinner, resting his chin on the big man's knee until the song was over.

Skinner set the guitar aside and extended his hands. "Come up here."

Mulder climbed into his lap, snuggling against the warm, broad chest. "Your stomach's growling, Walter. Let's go put that dinner on."

"Okay. It'll be ready in about 20 minutes. You can either stay here and watch some TV, or keep me company."

Mulder kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose. "Whither thou goest, I goest."

"I was hoping you'd say that. Or something to that effect."

Upon entering the kitchen, Mulder made a beeline for the stove and the huge pot that was bubbling away on top of it. He covered his hand with the cuff of his sweatshirt and lifted the lid. "Uh, Walter?"

Skinner had his head in the fridge. "Hmmm?"

"You've got enough water boiling here to make pasta for 20 people."

"Uh-huh. Or lobster for two."

Mulder spun around to find Skinner holding two squirming crustaceans, their claws held shut by bright blue rubber bands. "Oh, wow! I haven't had lobster since--"

"--Cape Cod. I know. I thought it would bring back some good memories. And maybe your appetite too."

His throat suddenly too tight to speak, Mulder just smiled brightly and nodded his approval.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was the first entire meal that Mulder had eaten in weeks. He picked the lobster almost clean, wolfed down a large helping of salad ("There's always room for *lettuce*, Walter!"), and didn't even leave the potato skin. He allowed himself a glass of white wine in addition to his usual iced tea, and was feeling sated and drowsy and blissful by the time they'd finished.

Skinner was downright ecstatic.

"Fox? You want coffee? More iced tea?"

"Hell, no. I'm stuffed." He reached across the table and took Skinner's hand. "Thanks, lover. I really enjoyed that."

"I'm glad. It's good to see you eat like that again."

"You mean, like a pig?" Mulder laughed.

"I mean, *not* like a bird." He squeezed the long, slender fingers. "Do you want to have a little rest while I clean up?"

"Uhn-uhn. If I help, it'll get done faster and we can fool around sooner." He waggled his eyebrows, more comically than suggestively.

"Actually," Skinner said as he dumped the lobster shells into the trash can, "I was thinking about giving you a massage tonight. If you like."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I picked up some oil at the, uh, *store* the other day, and I thought--"

//The store!// Mulder smacked himself on the forehead. "Don't move! I'll be right back." He darted from the kitchen, leaving the dishwasher door--and Skinner's mouth--hanging open.

He returned moments later with two small red packages in his hands. "Happy Valentine's Day, Walter."

"Fox," he scolded lightly, taking the proffered gifts, "I told you this morning that you didn't need to do this."

Mulder shifted from one foot to another. "I know, but I *wanted* to. Look, it's nothing much. Just a couple of little things. I promise."

Sceptical, Skinner led them back to the table. "Which one first?"

"Ah, *that* one," he proclaimed, pointing to what was obviously a videotape.

The big hands quickly peeled off the shiny wrapping paper. "This is out already?" It was a copy of Trick, a film they'd snuck off to a Georgetown art house cinema to see one quiet Friday afternoon the previous fall. The movie was a funny, life-affirming and romantic story about two young gay men who pick each other up for a night of hot sex but fall in love instead. Mulder and Skinner had gone home afterward and fucked each other stupid. "Thanks, babe. I was thinking about renting it."

"Well, now you don't have to. Okay, open the other one."

The second package was fairly small but heavy, and turned out to be a jar of chocolate body paint, complete with a soft-bristled brush.

"Oh, my. *This* looks like fun."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Wanna try it out?"

Skinner checked the kitchen clock. "It's almost nine, babe. How about we save it for another night? When we've got lots of time to, uh, do it properly."

Mulder's cheerfulness wavered. "Whatever."

"Fox, it's a great present, and I love it. I love *you*. But it's late and you're exhausted. You hardly slept at all last night. If I'm going to paint you with chocolate from head to foot and then eat it all off you, I'd prefer to do it when you're awake."

The younger man brightened. "What makes you think that *you* get to do the painting?"

"Well, since it's *my* gift, I assumed I'd get first dibs."

"As long as I get my turn," Mulder reasoned.

"Oh, you'll definitely get yours. Now, *you* wait here." With that, he left the room, coming back in a heartbeat with a large white box topped by a red bow. He placed the gift in front of Mulder. "Happy Valentine's Day, Fox."

Taking a deep breath, Mulder lifted the lid, pushed aside tissue paper--and gasped. "Jesus, Walter! Where did you--how did you--?"

"Dana helped. A lot. I hope you don't mind."

"No. God, no." Reverently, hands shaking, he took the framed photo from the box. It was a shot of him, aged four, sitting on his smiling mother's lap, the infant Samantha lovingly cradled in his arms. Bill Mulder had taken the picture. "We were happy then," Fox whispered, fighting back tears. "A family."

"Baby," Skinner agonized, tenderly stroking Mulder's cheek, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset. I just wanted you to remember your mother from a better time, and how much she loved you."

Mulder blinked, cleared his throat. "I'm not upset. It's a beautiful, thoughtful gift, Walter. Thank you."

The older man smiled shakily as Mulder leaned into his touch. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

The picture frame accompanied them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They took a long, hot shower together, spending as much time kissing as they did bathing each other. Despite the passion behind each kiss and caress, they emerged from the bathroom feeling more relaxed than aroused.  
The bedroom was warm and dimly lit. Skinner pulled back the sheets and instructed Mulder to lie on his stomach. Automatically, the younger man reached for the bedside drawer that held the lube, but had his hand pushed away.

"Stop jumping to conclusions," Skinner admonished. "I promised you a massage, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." He watched Skinner, gloriously naked, take a small bottle from the dresser and approach the bed. "You know, if you're too tired we can always--"

"Shhhh. I'm fine. Just shut up and enjoy this."

"Yes, Sir," Mulder teased. He closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure when Skinner straddled his upper thighs, began working the lightly cedar-scented oil into his tight shoulders.

"God, that feels good," he mumbled.

"That's the whole idea."

When Skinner's hands finally made their way to his ass, Mulder began to spread his legs.

"Uhn, uhn, uhn," Skinner told him, pushing them back together. "I'm not finished yet."

"Oh. Okay." And, really, he couldn't complain, because what was being done to him was pretty damned terrific. Erotic, yet soothing. God, it would be *so* wonderful to fall asleep like this. A waste, but still--

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Walter?"

There was nothing but silence from the man spooning him.

"Walter?" A little louder.

"Hmmm?"

"Whatimizit?"

"Dunno. Morning, sometime."

Mulder raised himself up on his elbow and squinted at the clock. "Jesus Christ! It's 7:30!" He tried to sit, but couldn't because of the restraining arm across his chest. "Damnit, Walter! We're going to be late for work!"

Skinner took Mulder by the shoulders and turned him so they were face to face. "I don't think your boss will mind. You obviously needed the rest."

"That may be, but it doesn't mean--hey! I slept all the way through the night!"

The older man combed his fingers through Mulder's hair. "That's great, babe. No sad dreams?"

"No sad dreams." He reached around to pat Skinner's firm bottom. "Now, come on. Get up. Kim's gonna send half the Bureau over here looking for you."

The right corner of Skinner's mouth quirked up. "Uh, I told Kim that we might not be coming in today. But--" He raised a hand in a gesture of surrender when Mulder's eyes narrowed. "--I told her that I'd have to discuss it with you first. If you want to work today, if that'll make you feel better, I think you should go."

Mulder's face softened immediately. "Would you stay home if I went in?"

"Nah. I'd be bored here without you." He gave Mulder a quick kiss and threw back the covers.

"Hey!" Mulder pulled the bedding back up. "Did you hear me say anything about going anywhere?"

"I guess I didn't. Do you want me to leave a message for Kim that we won't be in?"

"Yeah." Grinning impishly, he handed Skinner the phone. "Tell her we've got some painting to do."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fini  
February 14, 2000  
  


=====  
m. butterfly  
  
Fanfic -- http://Skinner.Mulder.com/walfox 

 


End file.
